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too. Po’ me I walk. De men of Dahomey dey tie us in de line so nobody run off. In dey hand dey got de head of de people dey kill in Takkoi. Some got two, three head dey carry wid dem to Dahomey.
    â€œI so sad for my home I ain’ gittee hongry dat day, but I glad when we drink de water.
    â€œBefo’ de sun go down we come by a town. It got a red flag on de bush. De king of Dahomey send men wid de word-changer to de town and de chief come in de hammock and talk wid de king. Den he take down de red flag and hang a white flag. Whut dey say, Cudjo doan know. But he bring de king a present of yams and corn. De soldiers make fire and cook de grub and eatee. Den we march on. Every town de king send message.
    â€œWe sleepee on de ground dat night but de king and de chiefs hang dey hammock in de tree and sleepee in dem. Den nothin’ doan harm dem on de ground. Po’ me I sleepee on de ground and cry. I ain’ used to no ground. I thinkee too ’bout my folks and I cry. All night I cry.
    â€œWhen de sun rise we eat and march on to Dahomey. De king send word to every town we passee and de head-man come out. If dey got a red flag, dat mean dey ’gree dey ain’ goin’ pay no tax to de Dahomey. Dey say dey will fight. If it a white flag, dey pay to Dahomey whut dey astee dem. If it a black flag, dat mean dat de ruler is dead and de son not old ’nough to take de throne. In de Affica soil when dey see de black flag, dey doan bother. Dey know it be takin’ advantage if dey make war when nobody in charge.
    â€œDe heads of de men of Dahomey got ’gin to smell very bad. Oh, Lor’, I wish dey bury dem! I doan lak see my people head in de soldier hands; and de smell makee me so sick!
    â€œDe nexy day, dey make camp all day so dat de people kin smoke de heads so dey don’t spoil no mo’. Oh Lor’ Lor’, Lor’! We got to set dere and see de heads of ourpeople smokin’ on de stick. We stay dere in dat place de nine days. Den we march on to de Dahomey soil.”
    Kossula was no longer on the porch with me. He was squatting about that fire in Dahomey. His face was twitching in abysmal pain. It was a horror mask. He had forgotten that I was there. He was thinking aloud and gazing into the dead faces in the smoke. His agony was so acute that he became inarticulate. He never noticed my preparation to leave him.
    So I slipped away as quietly as possible and left him with his smoke pictures.

VI
Barracoon
    I t was Saturday when next I saw Cudjo. He was gracious but not too cordial. He picked me peaches and tried to get rid of me quickly, but I hung on. Finally, he said, “Didn’t I tellee you not to come bother me on Sat’day? I got to clean de church. Tomorrow Sunday.”
    â€œBut I came to help you, Kossula. You needn’t talk if you don’t want to.”
    â€œI thankee you come help me. I want you take me in de car in de Mobile. I gittee me some turnip seed to plant in de garden.”
    We hurriedly swept and dusted the church. Less than an hour later the Chevrolet had borne us to Mobile and back. I left him at his gate with a brief goodbye and tackled him again on Monday.
    He was very warm this day. He glimmered and glinted with light. I must first tell him about the nice white lady in New York who was interested in him. 1
    â€œI want you to write her a letter in de New York. Tellher Cudjo say a thousand time much oblige. I glad she send you astee me whut Cudjo do all de time.”
    I talked about the lady for a few minutes and my words evidently pleased him for he said, “I tellee you mo’ ’bout Cudjo when he was in de Dahomey. I tellee you right. She good to me. You tell her Cudjo lak please her. She good to me and Cudjo lonely.
    â€œDey march us in de Dahomey and I see de house of de king. I cain tell all de towns we passee to git to de place where de king got his house, but I ’member we passee de place call Eko